The Rose
by Robin Purdy
Summary: A Disney High fanfic. Belle is sent to live with the Potts, a family filled with lively and vivacious people, except for the eldest son, Adam. Adam tries to stay as far away from Belle as possible, brooding over something unknown to her. Will their ties be fixed in the end? Or will Gaston steal Belle away from Adam before he can discover his feelings for her?


Dedicated to my friend and also to my followers-sorry I have not written in a while.

**The Rose**

_Oh rosebud of youth  
have you not been  
loved yet?_

_My sweet one so  
innocent and pure_

_have you not felt_  
_the lure?_  
_your day will come_  
_that's for sure._

-Heather Burns, _Rosebud of Youth_

* * *

_**Belle Desrosiers**_

_Smoke. Choking, holding me in a tight vice. I can't escape. _

_I'll never escape..._

"We have many options for you. They all, of course, will take some time to decide, but we believe they will suit you for the time being."

_I can't breathe. My eyes sting. My hands burn. Will I ever get out alive?_

_My mind races, I can't see where I'm going, but I stumble blindly through the grey, billowing abyss, searching for something real._

"You could go to a shelter. They will provide you with food and other necessities until your father finds a house to move into.

"Another option, the only one that doesn't require you from leaving school, is to move in with a host family. The only problem is that your father may not stay with you. He would be able to visit, but the family wouldn't feel comfortable with him living in their home."

_Something touches my shoulder. A hand. I cling to it as it drags me away from the smoke, the unknown, the fear..._

"What do you mean?" I asked, breaking myself from my reverie. Mr. Cogsworth looked surprised at my sudden outburst. I had been quiet throughout the entire meeting.

"S-s-sorry?" he asked, straightening his bow tie and flattening his hair, as if my question had disheveled him somehow.

"Why would the host family be uncomfortable with my father staying with them?"

"Please don't take this personally my dear, but he _is_ a grown man."

"Are you implying that all grown men cannot live in the same house as other adults?"

He fidgeted in his chair nervously. "Why no, Ms. Desrosiers, I'm just saying that maybe it's best that he finds his own living quarters while he searches for your new house."

"I'd like to leave," I said, getting up from the dusty, uncomfortable, client chair.

"But Ms. Desrosiers-"

I left before he could make me sit back down again.

Papa sat on a faded blue couch near the counselor office's entrance. "What did he say?"

"Papa, let's go," I whined, pulling on his sleeve. I had to bend down slightly to get a hold of it, for although I was fairly short myself, Papa could be considered as a dwarf comparably. In fact, he looked exactly like a dwarf: white tufts of hair, cottonball-clouds for a mustache, and a squat, slightly obese build.

Mr. Cogsworth rocketed from his office. "Ms. Desro-Oh, hello, Mr. Desrosiers."

"You don't have to keep calling me by my last name. It is a mouthful," Papa said, tugging his arm out of my grip.

"I would like to speak to you, Mr. Desro-Maurice, I mean."

Papa sighed and followed Mr. Cogsworth into the office, leaving me alone in the waiting room.

I hated being alone. It gave me too much time to think. I could remember things much easier without people to distract me. I plopped down on the couch, it sinking low and creaking wearily from being sat on too much. My foot traced an imaginary pattern on the filthy carpet as I tried not to think of the smoke. The trapping, condensed, smoke.

After some time, Papa finally exited from the office, downcast. Mr. Cogsworth followed.

"You're father and I have made a decision"

"What?" I demanded, standing up. "Without me?"

Papa looked away from me guiltily. Betrayal bubbled in my stomach and I had to look away too.

Mr. Cogsworth, breaking the awkward silence, explained what they chose for me: staying with the host family until Papa found us a new home.

"Who are they?" I asked.

"The Potts. I'm sure you've met their son before; Adam I believe his name is."

"How long?"

"It will be invariably-from a week to as long as half a year. It depends on how quickly your father finds a home."

"I'll only have one home," I corrected him.

"Er...Yes, of course." I saw a tear drop from Papa's hidden face.

I left the room quickly, hot, wet, salty tears stinging in my eyes. But I would not cry.

Not ever again.


End file.
